


Hearthfire

by larxenethefirefly



Series: a family of ravens [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Female Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Tarben's POV, Tattoos, and to write something soft, basically an excuse to explain why I picked the tattoos I did, but nothing explicit, slight references to sexual activities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larxenethefirefly/pseuds/larxenethefirefly
Summary: To many of the people in Ravensthorpe, Eivor was a beacon, a guiding light, something to look up to and depend on.
Relationships: Eivor/Tarben (Assassin's Creed)
Series: a family of ravens [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069721
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Hearthfire

To many of the people in Ravensthorpe, Eivor was a beacon, a guiding light, something to look up to and depend on.

She wore the leadership in the absence of her brother well- her raiders were always coming back with stories about her glory, and when she was back home (back to him) she addressed her people’s concerns, working to find solutions and keep their spirits up. Every time she came back, it was with more treasures, more allies, more stories to tell in the mead hall as she celebrated with her people.

But she was still guarded. She was better when she was home, wearing a small smile as she talked with Gunnar about upgrades or playing with the children or helping Yanli store her goods. And yet there was an air about her that spoke of wariness, of uncertainty, as if she was just waiting for something to happen to take it all away.

Randvi didn’t seem to notice. Gunnar did, but didn’t get involved. Svend didn’t care. She wasn’t the Jarl, but she was there, and that meant something.

To the Raven Clan, Eivor was a cornerstone, a pillar, a fundamental piece of their survival.

To Tarben, she was none of those things. And yet, she was more.

At first, she was a storm. Beautiful and terrifying in her rage and ferocity, but in her softer moments capable of bringing hope and life to those around her. Her presence gave them another chance at survival, giving him a future to hope for. Now that he knew her, was given the chance to know her, Tarben knew differently.

He wasn’t so presumptuous to think that she was unguarded around him. More gentle, maybe, more still, but never unguarded. But at the same time there were things he knew about her that no one else did, things that she would be ashamed to admit to anyone else. Her fears, her doubts, her uncertainties- cradled in his arms, curled under his furs, she was free to let go, to whisper things she dare not dwell on otherwise into the hollow of his neck, his fingers carding through her hair in reassurance. How she feared that Sigurd wouldn’t return, that everyone was right when they said she was seeking glory even though their reasonings were wrong, and how she hated that despite that, she did think her brother unfit for his role. Her worry that one day, she would have to choose between her heart and her mind, and her uncertainty on which she would choose should the day come. How every night, she wondered if she was making the right choices, choosing the right battles, or if she was simply bringing ruin to their doorstep.

He never spoke during this time, just allowed her this moment of weakness before the gates around her inner heart drew shut once more.

And after she fell silent, when a final shudder ran through her frame, he gently touched the tattoos on her back, her arms, her chest, and finally her head- reminding her through actions of who she was, who she is, and who she wanted to be.

The first time they slept together, he had wondered about their meaning. Her armor covered up all but the raven curled about her ear, and revealing each piece was like discovering a new part of her. She smiled as he traced the lines down her chest with fingers and then his mouth, hummed as he followed the whorls on her back as their sweat cooled after. He found he liked to trail his fingers down her arm as she dozed, following the thick lines of ink in the shapes of runes and ravens.

“What do they mean?” he asked, after their fifth night together. Eivor was leaving in the morning for Ledecestrecire, and would be gone for weeks if things worked out.

In response, she tilted her face further into his neck. “Why do you want to know?”

“They mean something to you, and you mean something to me. If you don’t want to tell me-”

Eivor pushed herself up, that soft half-smile on her face, the one she directed at those she held dear. “I’m not offended, Tarben,” she replied, one hand idly running along his collarbone. “I’m just wondering why it took so long to ask.”

He shrugged, catching the hand and pressing a kiss to her palm before threading his fingers with hers. “More pressing things to think about.”

A smirk as she wiggled atop him, and he narrowed his eyes. She laughed. “They’re… reminders,” she responded, her free hand gesturing idly. “Memories. Things I need to remember.”

Tarben stayed silent, watching as she shifted, moving to sit beside him. “Vestri,” she said, indicating the lines on her chest and stomach. “A guiding wind to seek the betterment of myself and my people.” She held out her right arm. “Muninn, to remember my parents, and Hugninn, to prevent it from happening again.” Her left. “Gungnir, for the power to strike down my enemies and protect my family alike. And Midgard-” at this she turned, to show her back, “-to remind myself of my sacrifices and what I have and will leave behind.”

“I suppose the raven is self explanatory,” he smiled, and to his relief she smiled back as she fit herself against him once more.

They both knew she didn’t need to elaborate, but she still responded, her voice soft. “The raven, because my family, my home, is always in my thoughts.”

Her mouth fitted over his, and there were no more words for the rest of the night. But the ones she shared stayed with him, for she trusted him to keep them safe.

It was no burden. Every beacon needed a light to shine from, and every pillar needed a foundation to support them.

Tarben would gladly be those things and more, because Eivor was his hearthfire. Home and warmth and hope- and as she slept peacefully in his arms, he knew he no longer had to fear what the dark would bring.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at the end of 2020 because let's face it, I needed to write something soft. Figured I'd start the year off with this story, because we all need a little comfort in our lives.
> 
> Here's to the dream that 2021 will bring us warmth and hope, and all the love we could ever want.


End file.
